


A Desolate Mindset

by CykaSpace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Boyfriends, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-11-21 16:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CykaSpace/pseuds/CykaSpace
Summary: This is a kind of alternate universe 1995 Britain where law is strict and space is vast.I wrote the start of this at a service-station McDonald's on the motorway whilst drinking a cup of tea surrounded by people who had just come back from a road-trip...please enjoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FBSRO

The man sitting opposite me stared at his watch , occasionally sipping his drink and looking up. He’d had four drinks since I’d entered.He’d obviously been stood-up. I myself had never been in that situation but I could understand how he felt. Standing up from my seat, a finger of Jack Daniel’s in my left hand, I made my way over to him.

‘Is this seat taken?’ The man smiled at me sadly and shook his head.

‘Afraid not. My date stood me up,’ he replied. Smiling at him, I sat down in the empty seat . The pub was mostly empty, save for me, the man and around six others scattered about the place.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your date,’ I said after a sip of my drink. ‘I don’t know what it’s like, but I bet it’s awful.’ The man nodded and downed the rest of what looked like gin and tonic.

‘I’m Parker, by the way,’ he smiled. Parker seemed to be getting happier purely from the social interaction.

‘Nick,’ I replied and reached out my hand to shake. Parker took it and gave it two firm shakes before letting go.

‘Who was your date?’ I asked. Parker’s eyes widened at the mention of this person.

‘David - I mean  _ Dana. She  _ was called Dana. She had long brown hair, hazel eyes and olive skin.

You see, Dana and I have known each other for years - since we were born, really - and she was the one to make the first move by asking me out on this date,’ he began after calling over a waiter and ordering another G+T (I ordered a beer). ‘We’d been planning this for weeks and he -  **_she_ ** picked this place, saying that it was her favourite pub-restaurant. Anyway, I turn up and wait for about an hour and a half, two hours and she didn’t arrive. I was really considering leaving until you turned up.’ I smiled. Parker and I seemed to be getting along. 

‘Do you want to come back to my house for a coffee or tea or something?’ I offered. Parker nodded and called for a waiter for the cheque.

‘I’ll pay for my own,’ I said, reaching for my wallet. Parker’s hand arm extended and he gently grasped my wrist, succeeding in stilling me.

‘Don’t. I’ll pay. After all, I’m coming back to your house, aren’t I?’ he reasoned. I nodded, slipped my wallet back into my pocket and awaited the cheque. A blonde waitress who looked to be in her early forties arrived and gave it to use. Parker becond her closer. The waitress nodded as Parker whispered into her ear.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her repressed French accent fairly obvious to me but not to Parker. You see, the French are enemies of the Irish, English and Scottish due to the war of 1992. Any French in England, Scotland and Ireland will be exterminated and vice versa. I couldn’t care less about the conflict, however.

‘Ready to go?’ Parker asked. I nodded, grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair and threw it on.

 

As we entered the cold Wednesday night, the stars and satellites gleaming above us, Parker began talking about his parents. He explained that they were soldiers fighting in the ‘92 War but both lost their lives to a French fighter who stormed their camp when they were replenishing their supplies. Parker seemed to be desensitised to the topic of conversation, as if he’d told the story so many times before (he may have done, I didn’t ask him this).

‘So I suppose you hold a grudge against the French,’ I said once he’d finished. Parker shrugged.

‘Not really,’ he sighed. ‘I was at uni at the time so I didn’t find out until a week later when the Death Report was filed in the university newspaper.’ I nodded.

‘What do you think about the French?’ he asked me, glancing up briefly to gauge my reaction to the “F” word

‘I don’t really have an opinion on them. They’re just there, really,’ I explained.

We turned the corner and walked in silence until we reached my house.

‘Number 501,’ Parker mumbled to himself. ‘Just missed out on 500, then?’

‘Yeah. Though I find that 501 speaks to me more.’ I stuck my key into the lock and twisted until it opened. Suddenly, I paused.

‘What is your opinion on cats?’

‘Cats...they’re the posh, fluffy things that have three eyes, right? Yeah, I like them.’

‘Good,’ I nodded. As I pushed open my door, Lotus and Crook circled my ankles, “protecting” me from Parker.

‘Don’t mind him, he’s a friend,’ I explained to them. Crook wandered off but Lotus mewled at me and looked up. Sighing lovingly, I picked her up and walked further into my house. Parker closed the door behind him, took off his shoe and placed them by my bowl of keys near the door.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ I asked once Parker had made himself comfortable on the sofa.

‘Yeah, do you have any gin and tonic?’ he asked. I nodded and placed Lotus next to him so they could get better acquainted.

‘I have many more cats but they’re probably all upstairs,’ I explained as I came back to Parker with his drink.

‘That’s fine. Lotus is a lovely cat, aren’t you?’ he giggled as he stroked her chin. Lotus was black, white and ginger with hints of silver in her fur and eyes. She was the oldest and my favourite of my twelve cats. Crook was a deep purple and black but his patterns changed (this was a usual occurrence).

‘I’m making a stir-fry. Would you like some?’ I offered.

‘As long as you don’t mind. I haven’t eaten for five-ish hours.’ I told Parker that it was fine with me for him to have dinner with me.

 

The stir-fry took me about half an hour to make and I brought it out with two glasses of red wine.

‘I hope you like red, it’s the only wine I have.’ Parker grinned.

‘It’s my favourite, thank you,’ he replied and took a mouthful of stir-fry. ‘This is lovely, how do you make it?’

‘With a lot of Soy-Sauce,’ I chuckled. We ate in silence with the stereo playing classical music. Lotus lead the others behind her into the living room as if she were a queen being followed by her royal guards.

‘Can you name all of them for me, please?’ Parker asked me once the cats were settled and we’d finished out food. I took a sip of my wine.

‘Lotus, you know her; Crook, the black and purple one; Manson, the white and gold one with one eye; Pagan is the maroon one; Zeth is the ink-coloured one; Harr, ginger;  Broken, mustard-ish; Tiffany is the pink one with the blue eyes; Yan is the white one with the yellow eyes; Soup is bright red; Vern is dark green and Loque is neon blue,’ I explained. Parker nodded slightly and raised his eyebrows in an attempt to remember the names. Finally, he nodded fully and looked at me.

‘I really like them,’ he said. I looked at him.

‘Me too.’ There was a pause.

‘I lied to you in the restaurant,’ Parker sighed, and looked away. I frowned but said nothing to provoke him. He carried on. ‘I wasn’t waiting for a girl called Dana...I was, uh, waiting for a guy called David,’ he stuttered. I could tell he was nervous. Being homosexual in this time was against the law and you could be executed. I was fine with it. I was fine with most things.

‘I understand if you want me to leave, I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Parker began to stand up but I grabbed his arm and stopped him.

‘It’s fine, I’m not going to do anything. I’m alright with everything. If you were a homosexual drunk drug-addict with four eyes and angel wings then I’d still be fine with your company,’ I explained as calmly as I could with Parker staring at me so intensely.

‘Then do you mind if I stay here? I was kicked out of my flat by my landlord who gave me a deadline to leave or he’d call the police,’ he mumbled shyly. I smiled at him.

‘Do you want to move in?’ I asked. Parker’s eyes lit up and he beamed at me.

‘Thank you so much! Thank you!’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FBSRO

Parker hadn’t stopped sniffling and wiping his eyes since I’d told him that he could move in. We were watching an old black-and-white film about one of the older wars, one of the wars that I’d experienced but not fought in.

‘When were you born?’ Parker asked out of nowhere. I considered this for a moment. I knew that I’d been born somewhere around the 1910s but I was sure that I wasn’t that old. I looked in the mirror once a month (as did everyone else otherwise you were arrested) and I was sure that I looked around the age of twenty.

‘Around 1910 or so. I know I don’t look eighty years old but my conscience is that age. When were you born?’

‘1976, I think. Maybe earlier,’ Parker replied. He didn’t seemed repulsed at my “age” which didn’t really surprise me, as he did just admit to being homosexual; one of the worst crimes someone could commit. I checked the time on the clock above the TV; half-past ten. The Nightly Broadcast would be played on my radio soon and I get bored listening to it (you have to listen unless you’re somewhere else).

‘Would you like to head up to bed?’ I asked. Parker looked up at me bashfully.

‘Yeah, um...where am I sleeping?’ he questioned nervously and glanced away.

‘With me. I don’t have any spare beds and my sofa is very uncomfortable.’

‘You’re not worried that I’ll try anything...uh,  _ gay  _ on you, are you?’ I shake my head.

‘I trust you not to. And if you were to, once you’d realised what I’m like, you wouldn’t want to.’ Parker raised an eyebrow confusedly.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked as I stood up. I waved my hand dismissively and walked to the the cupboard to find extra blankets and pillows.

‘It doesn’t matter. Which colour do you prefer; blue, yellow, green or pink?’ Holding up the different blankets to him, I watched his eyes dart up and down my body, trying to decipher what I meant with my previous statement.

‘Uh, green, please…’ I nodded and grabbed a white pillow from the same cupboard. Suddenly, a tremendous rumble and booming noise shook the house. My eyes shot over to Parker and his to mine. Another rumble sounded and shook the house further.

‘Bunker, now!’ I yelled and dropped the blanket and pillow. Parker nodded and ran with me to the trapdoor in the kitchen. Kicking the carpet out of the way, I pulled the hatch open and jumped down into the darkness. Parker followed close behind me and pulled the hatch down once his feet hit the ground. I had no time to get a torch so I had to light the oil lamp hanging on the left of the wall. I kept the box of matches on the shelf next to the lamp just in case something like this ever happened. It occured to me that I’d only ever prepared for one person down here, not two. I had enough supplies for around two years but if we shared it equally, then we’d only have enough for one. I’d only installed one single bed, one tiny shower, one toilet and one small armchair. As I struck the match, another bomb landed, very close to us this time. Quickly, I lit the lamp, pulled it off of the shelf and grabbed Parker’s hand, dragging him down the hall and a flight of stairs.

‘Do you know what’s going on?’ he yelled to me.

‘Not a clue! I think we’re being bombed!’ I yell back and swiftly hand him the oil lamp. We reach the iron door to the Safe Room as I fumble in my pockets to find the key and, pulling it out, I insert it into the door with my left hand still on Parker’s wrist. I throw him in first (he’s my main priority) and sam the door shut, making sure it’s locked and bolted. Parker heaves uneasily from his crouched position next to the sofa, his face pale and his hair sticking to his face. I leap over to him and crouch down to meet his eye-level.

‘Are you okay? Do you want something to drink? A shower?’ I rambled on as I gently pried the lamp from his fingers. Parker was shaking but seemed responsive to what I was saying. I jumped up and sprinted over to the cupboard and grabbed a bottle of water.

‘Nick…’ he mumbled. I quickly walked back over to him and handed him the bottle.

‘I’m right here, I’m here. What do you need?’ Parker looked up at me.

‘I’m so scared.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FBSRO

It had been about six hours since Parker had fainted and I was making sure that we had everything we needed. I’d made him more comfortable by putting him in the single bed but I didn’t bother with the quilt as I knew from experience that he’d be hot and clammy when he woke up. I’d changed into a new set of clothes as my previous ones were drenched in sweat from how hard I was running. So far, no more bombs had gone off as far as I was aware but I didn’t want to risk leaving Parker and the bunker unattended out of fear that he might die or the bunker would be invaded. Parker stirred and I dropped the plate I was washing to be by his bedside.

‘Parker?’ I whispered and crouched down next to him.

‘Nick?’ he asked groggily, moving slowly up onto his elbows.

‘I’m here, I’m right here.’ Parker looked at me wearily and made a tiny smile.

‘What happened?’

‘You fainted, that’s all. Do you remember anything-’ Before I could finish my sentence, Parker shot up and rapidly looked around the room.

‘Did-did any more bombs go off?’ he stuttered. I shook my head and gently pushed his shoulders down onto the bed.

‘You need to rest,’ I explained.

‘What about you?’ he asked before yawning loudly.

‘I’m not the tired one.’

‘I want to stay up with you,’ Parker complains, tugging at my shirt.

‘Parker, no.’

‘But why not?’

‘I don’t want you to get hurt,’ I try again, but Parker seems to ignore all of my protests. He sits up and grabs a hold of my arm forcefully.

‘I won’t. Nick,  _ please… _ ’ Parker looks pleadingly at me, his hand still on my bicep.  I don’t move, nor do I say anything. I don’t want the bombs to hurt him.  _ I  _ don’t want to hurt him. He has no idea what I’m capable of. I glance down at the floor and flinch at all the possible outcomes of letting him out of bed while I’m panicking. Though it may not have looked like it, I was petrified. I was always taught as a child by my Dad that you had to conceal everything you felt in case you hurt someone around you by showing how you truly felt. He never forced me to do it, it was my idea to go through with it, but I’d always kept everything a secret. A small shake to my arm broke me from my daze and I looked up again to see Parker staring into my eyes.

‘Nick…’ I stand up and pull away from him. Parker’s arm drops to his side and he sighs.

‘Alright then. I’ll rest for an hour only, then you have to rest, too,’ he says, pointing somewhat angrily at me. I understand.

‘That’s a fair deal. Now rest up, I’ll make breakfast for when you’re awake.’ Parker nods and yawns again. When I’m sure he’s out, I close the bedroom door and set a timer for an hour, just like he promised to sleep for. I head over to the shower and turn it on. Surprisingly, it works first time and I discard my clothes, throwing them onto the floor and stepping into the shower. As I soak my hair, I realise something.

I’m scared.

 

I have a five minute shower and then get on with making Parker breakfast. As I’m walking to the kitchen counter, I notice that I’ve an old, black radio sitting next to the sink. I’d forgotten that I’d brought one down here, but I pick it up and tune in to our local radio station. The station itself is nameless so many people who listen to it just call it by its frequency modulation; 401. Not many people I know listen to it, but it’s one of the best and least-known stations that doesn’t spurt out as much propaganda as the others. By law, the station has to give the Death Report, the Agenda Report and the Weather but they didn’t spout the usual nonsense about cloud aeroplanes and aqua Nazis. I didn’t want Parker to hear the Death Report as he’d hear something that he wouldn’t want to and he’d probably leave the bunker. I found some tinned tomatoes, tinned sausages and noodles and thought that Parker would like it (if he didn’t, then I’d just eat them - we couldn’t let anything go to waste here in the bunker). 

 

I knocked on the wall next to the bed in which Parker was sleeping in with the bowl of food in my hand. 

‘Parker,’ I whispered. Parker’s brow furrowed in sleep but he eventually came to.

‘Hey there. I made you some food, do you want some?’ Parker squinted, yawned and rubbed his eyes before focusing on me.

‘Oh God, yes,’ he replied and lunged for the bowl.


End file.
